


Kvass'po

by Astronoddingoff



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Spanking, her boys had a turn being subs, listen, non-sobriety, now its Una's time to get a ride on the wild side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 21:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21022889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronoddingoff/pseuds/Astronoddingoff
Summary: How would it feel? To drop to her knees like her boys do for her? To bend to their combined wills and trust that they won’t break her? To know the blissful quiet her boys seek from her ministrations first hand? Does shame tastes as sweet on the skin as the sting of-‘Fuck. This.’She was named Number One of her birth year on Illryia for a reason, and that reason wasn’t because she was a fucking coward.Wherein Una gets to have a taste of what it's like to be her partners, her partners thoroughly enjoy every second of it, and the Ready room is once again used for purposes it was Not Originally Meant For.





	Kvass'po

**Author's Note:**

> Is this OOC? Is this too much? is this a pic out of nowhere? who knows. probably. all i know is It wouldn't leave my brain. I'm dead. Probably gonna miss kinktober today AND turn in my paper EVEN MORE LAE bc I spent all my writing braincells on crafting this. have at thee, heathens.

To be honest, it’s almost scary how comparable the three of them are sometimes. 

She doesn’t know if it’s been like that from the start by sheer chance, or if they’ve just known each other so long they’ve just morphed into three parts of the same whole. Two decades of friendship, nearly a third of that time commanding a ship together, and nearly half of the time spent in something resembling their current partnership would make anyone at least _used_ _to_ each others nonsense. They’re so different. Sharp where the others are soft, hyper focused on different things, past lives and past loves so different from one another that on the surface they shouldn’t even _like_ one another. 

But they’re always there, slotted together like clockwork. 

Work, sex, recreation, what have you. Always in sync, always knowing each other’s weak points and when to switch between guarding them and deliberately going for them.

But apparently, there’s a lot they still don’t know about one another.

Three days of on-ship leave of duty for Chris. A night spent drinking dubiously legal Vulcan liqueur. Seemingly over the course of minutes and an hour since they cracked open the bottle, and they make the jump from sober to decidedly  _ not.  _ Crossfaded, half laying on her bedroom couch, half on each other, laughing at nothing. Laughing leads to talking: leads to giggling at innuendos and wandering hands, leads to loose lips and hidden desires normally kept carefully locked away by pride. Past lovers, jokes of kinkier exploits, the odd “I’ve thought about ‘x’ before. Seems kinda fun, I dunno” Always with plausible deniability, deference, something to hide behind if all goes south.

Grinning into her shoulder, Phil broaches a new topic. Makes it an open discussion of merits, muses the pros and cons. Of, of all things, spanking. 

And oh how she and Chris laughed; poked harmless fun at how seemingly well versed he was on the topic. How she giggled as Phil blushed high on his cheeks, tucked his head away into her neck and wouldn’t surface, even as she asked him to continue. And he did continue, albeit amidst non-sober giggles and flushed. He spoke.

Of sensations of skin on skin, fingers grasping fabric covered limbs and bedsheets. The allure of the embarrassment of being pitched over someone’s knee, the power and awe of someone else over his. Noises startled out of lungs, the little  _ jump _ one has with the first hit. And as he spoke reverently of past lovers, gentle and rough hands, wrists bound in rope, her laughter faded. Replaced by a curiosity softened at the edges by her non-sobriety. The crossfade only made her thoughts wander, entertain themselves casually in view of her mind’s eye when her sober self might have shut them down before they even began.

He hesitated in his musings, just once. Remarked even softer than he had been speaking before, that shame only seems to make the act sting sweeter. 

It settled onto her skin like an admission. A confession. And she was surprised to feel herself react to it. Not in the typical way she usually did to her boys confessions of desire. The mother confessor she had always fancied herself to be found herself no longer above their desires with a playful, watchful eye. Something small in her began to  _ burn. _

“Something else on your mind there, Phillip?” Chris pipes up at some point, from where his head is tucked into her other shoulder. Phil had cut himself off once more, unspoken words held between his teeth. “You look like you’ve got something else to say”

Phil tilts his head to look at him, but catches her eye on accident. Holds her gaze instead, seemingly searching for something. She maintains the eye contact. Her body still burns. His confessional echoes in her ears like a phaser blast down an empty hall.

Whatever it is he was searching for, he seemed to find it.

“Yeah, I think I do” Phil answers finally. Carefully. Their holy confessor feels the flames lick at her skin. She swallows.

—-

Today, three days later, she sits at her station and tries to ignore just about everything. The nerves fluttering in her absdomen, the fact that she feels so stupid and embarrassed, the vulnerability prickling at the back of her neck in a way that feels far too much like shame-

-The plug, pressing into her rim with the pressure of sitting in her seat.

Chris gave the Conn to Amin an hour ago, citing the simultaneous needs for her to get Command hours under her belt and for him to catch up on reports and reviews. Quipped some joke about ‘The Perks of being Captain include extra time for reports, Unfortunately, that time  _ also _ comes with more reports to review’, and he’s been in the Ready Room since then.

She, meanwhile, spent a half hour in contemplative hell before excusing herself to the bathroom down a level. Spent another ten minutes in a  _ different _ hell tearing open a tiny packet of lube she had in her pocket and spearing herself open on the toy she had hidden in her bra, fighting the urge not to get herself off then and there from the sheer  _ want _ and  _ nerves _ the act of it all generated. Another five minutes spent casually walking back to her shift as though she  _ wasn’t _ showing up to work with a fucking sex toy up her ass, and then she was  _ here. _ Stuck in the second worst hell she had experienced that day (Only bested by the probability that going through with this would be the  _ first _ worst hell of the day) while her body simultaneously demanded she storm the ready room and also that she space herself as soon as possible to avoid the torment.

Fuck, she feels  _ humiliated. _ Stupid and foolish and vulnerable and she  _ loathes _ the feeling of being out of her element. But god help her, she  _ wants. Burns. Aches  _ with desire she can barely admit to herself, let alone to her partners _ .  _

How would it feel? To drop to her knees like her boys do for her? To bend to their combined wills and trust that they won’t break her? To know the blissful quiet her boys seek from her ministrations first hand? Does shame tastes as sweet on the skin as the sting of-

_ ‘Fuck. This. _ ’

She was named Number One of her birth year on Illryia for a reason, and that reason wasn’t because she was a fucking coward.

She stands, grabs her report padd off the floor beside her. Nods to Amin as she motions with her head to the Ready Room. Amin nods back with a smile, wishes her a fun debriefing. It takes everything in her not to laugh; out of nerves or mirth, she’ll never know.

_ ‘Oh if only you knew, Amin’ _

Three steps up to the doors and she’s let in automatically. Takes a few more short steps in. Chris looks up from his work as the doors slide shut behind her. Smiles at her kindly, unknowing.

“Debrief hour already, huh?” 

She nods. Tries to choke down a stressed laugh.

“Computer, lock Ready Room door by Privacy Code 2477P0. Have anyone who chimes state reasoning or use emergency override code.”

The computer pings with the request. The sound of the doors locking behind her click with an air of finality. Shame and fear and arousal coil and course through her veins, fighting for dominance and which gets to control her actions from here. She didn’t plan a speech on proposing all of this really, besides their talks of interest three days ago, what if he was only humoring Phil? What if this was all just a joke did she read them wrong god she’s not as good at reading people as Chris is and she would just  _ kill  _ for the skill right about now-

“Una?”

She hasn’t moved from just in front of the doors. Too involved in her own head to remember to. Chris is looking at her confused, brow furrowed. Worried.

_ ‘Now or never’ _

—-

He’s about to get up and physically walk over to check if his Number One is somehow broken and/or malfunctioning when she locks eyes with him. Her face is.. determined. Defensive? Angry? Hard to tell. They’re all a similar face on her.

_ ‘Oh shit, what did I do?’ _ Comes to his mind, unbidden. 

“What Phil said, a few nights ago.” she begins. Waves a hand vaguely at the air. “I- we had talked about it. Do you-“ falters again. Huffs, annoyed. Pinches the bridge of her nose with one hand as she seemingly tries to find her words. It hits him suddenly that she’s  _ nervous. _

_ What the fuck? _

Nervousness wasn’t like her. He had seen her smile in the faces of hostile captors, seen her pilot the ship with nothing but her wits and one uninjured hand without an ounce of fear. Seen her once look a Vice Admiral who had been an asshole to Chris dead in the eyes and tell him point blank that he would “soon be replaced by someone who  _ cared”, _ and then he  _ was _ three months later. What did Phil say that could possibly-

Oh.  _ Oh. _

It clicks. He slowly leans forward. Places his hands folded on the desk carefully. No  _ wonder  _ she’s so defensive. Lieutenant Commander ‘I like to keep my freaky to myself’ Number One was out of her element. She  _ wanted. _ Always the giver, never the taker. And yet this time, she wanted to  _ be _ taken. He knows her. Intimately well. Knows that she is at best uncomfortable at wanting, at worst  _ terrified. _ Terrified that to even admit it to him would be an admission of weakness. Defeat. Failure on her part to live up to her namesake as Number One.

She had been the one to break him out of his own similar mindset, once. Maneuvered her way through his defenses and worries with the grace of a dancer performing at a recital. Got him to trust that she wouldn’t break him, and then got him to trust her  _ to _ break him.

_ ‘It’s about time I return that favor’ _

“You want to experiment?” He asks carefully. Measured.

She nods, just once.

“Here and now?” Another nod.

“Color system?”

“Sure”

“Safe word?”

Her lips quirk. “ _ Kvass-po _ ”

The Vulcan word for the drink that started it all. Perfect pronunciation, too. God, he loves her.

“And you’ll tell me to stop if you want to?” He ensures. She snorts, takes a few steps towards him.

“When do I  _ not _ pipe up when I don’t like something?” She asks, setting her padd down on the desk edge. He smiles, and then goes in to ask the more important question.

“And you’ll tell me if you  _ don’t _ want to stop?” This won’t work if she can’t enjoy herself.  _ Can’t  _ work if she doesn’t feel secure enough to.

Her movement halts just like that. Fingers steepled on the edge of the padd. Bites her lip. Nervous, again.

“Yeah” she answers after a moment. “As long as you don’t think less of me either way”

_ ‘Oh, baby’ _

He reaches over the table to rest a hand on hers. She looks to him.

“Una, babe. You’ve fucked me over this exact desk with a strap on and called me a slut, and you didn’t even  _ blink. _ You’ve also done the same to our CMO, which I watched. I morally, and also quite possibly legally,  _ cannot _ judge you for  _ anything _ you do or do not enjoy.”

The joke lands, and she laughs. Just a little bit, but they’re the giggles she always tries to hide because she thinks they’re unflattering, or some other totally bullshit idea in that vein because their one of his favorite sounds he hears from her.

“You’re always safe with me,” he continues, serious. She looks back at him, searches his eyes not out of doubt but necessity. He lets her. In a moment, the strain seems to leave her shoulders, and she breathes out in a small sigh.

“I know” she says quietly.

“Good.” He responds back, genuinely pleased. “Because I can’t think of anything that would make you anything less of a Godsend in my eyes”. He just manages to catch a glimpse at an array of emotions fly across her face before she looks away, smiling. Affection, flattery, warmth, soon hidden away by a smooth curtain of hair. He lets a beat pass before he leans back in his chair, one arm on an armrest, the other bent at the elbow up towards his face. He rubs his thumb and forefinger together as his eyes graze her body. Looks back up to her face, meets her eyes.

“Now come on over here,” nods to his right side with a tilt of his head. “Let me look at you”

She follows the request. Unzips her jacket collar until it’s open along the way. 

“How do you wanna do this, babe?” He asks. This is her want, her scene, her choice, as far as he’s concerned.

She doesn’t respond in words, but takes her jacket off. Looks to the locked door for a moment before she drapes it over the side of the desk. Leans down and pulls off her boots. He watches with rapt attention as she works on the top of her pants, undoes them and shoves them down to her knees. She stands before him in her shirt and underwear, shifting on her feet.

His eyebrows raised by themselves, but the grin stays on his face. He reaches a hand out, traces the edge of her underwear. Her  _ familiar _ underwear.

“Didn’t Phil and I get you these not too long ago?” He teases lightly. 

She shrugs. “They’re my favorite for a reason”

He hums. Strokes a thumb on the curve of her hip. She wraps a hand around his wrist, halting the movement. Curious, he looks back up at her.

“I wasn’t going to take them off you, babe.” He truly wasn’t. Wouldn’t even dip his fingers under the edge of them without asking. She controls what happens here. She leaves her underwear on, they stay on.

“I know” she replies. Tugs on his wrist until he lets her guide his hand off her hip, behind the swell of it until she presses his hand on her ass. His lips quirk, he curls his fingers on the cheek and-wait

The tips of two fingers stroke the stretchy black lace, but also, something firmer under it. The firm base of a toy. 

His eyes widen.

“Babe” he says simply. Can’t form words beyond it.

“It’s the blue one” she answers, able to read him well enough that she knows the questions flying around in his head before he can form them out loud. “I’ve had it in for like twenty minutes. It stays too.”

Fuck. Next time he sees that glorious bastard, he’s gonna kiss Phil within an inch of his life. Maybe blow him at his desk as a ‘Christ on a bike,  _ thank you’ _ gesture.

_ ‘Speaking of Phil...’ _

“If that  _ does _ stay,” he starts slowly. “I think the man who inspired you might like to see his creation in action.” It’s a question, a choice he leaves out to her. He watches her mull it over for a moment.

“He’s on double shift right now.”

“He’s on Active Duty for this shift” he corrects. “The next one is office hours and paperwork, which starts in...” he hazards a glance to the clock. “Forty minutes?”. He looks back up to her, flashes a grin. “He might want a distraction. You know, a little motivation to finish up his work faster so he can make our dinner date?”

Her lips slowly pull into a devious, coy smirk, and oh is that a good sign. A devious Una is a comfortable one, and he wants her to be Very Comfortable.

“Fine. But we  _ only  _ send it if it’s hot”

“It’s your ass, Una. It’s hot regardless of anything” he quips back as she leans over the desk to snatch the once forgotten padd. She smacks his arm before she hands it to him.

“Well? Go on and set up the shot then. I’m literally caught with my pants down over here”

“You  _ could _ take those off fully, you know”

“Ah, but that would ruin the aesthetic. Besides, I’m gonna need  _ something _ to kneel on besides the Super Forgiving metal floor”

He snorts. As always, she crushes him in a debate. Raises his hands in defeat as he gets up and walks behind her. He sets the padd up a few feet away on a spare table. Angles it to try and get the optimal view of the chair. Mentally envisions and calculates the length of her body laying over him -arguably the most unanticipated way he’s ever used his math knowledge- and how best to tilt the padd and the chair to capture it all. After a few moments, he’s satisfied. He’s no camera man, but it’ll do. Hits record with one finger and moves back to the desk.

Settling back in the chair, he half spins and pushes just a bit from the desk. Levels a gaze at Una after making a show of looking her over again. Grabs her ass with one hand and squeezes, teasing the plug with two fingers. He hopes the lense picks up the way her lashes flutter, the hitch of breath.

“Now,” he says softly, lowering an octave. “I believe you were going to go over my knee?”

She actually  _ blushes, _ a sight so rare it nearly takes him off guard for a second, but she nods. Quips a quiet, “yes  _ Captain” _ that’s he knows was meant to be sarcastic, but somehow isn’t. Somehow sends a spike of arousal through him as she moves. Fuck, he’s not even into power play like that, but that comment is doing a hell of a lot of work in trying to change his mind. She places her hands on his opposing leg before laying herself over his lap. Her knees don’t  _ quite  _ make the floor, and it takes some finagling, but she eventually settles. Her back rises with the uptake in breath. Her fingers steeple on his left leg on either side of her head, the swell of her ass over his right. Through the not quite sheer lace, he can make out the curve of the plug’s base.

_ ‘God, we’re fucking doing this’ _

Somehow, of all the things they’ve done, this seems the most taboo. Most risque. Maybe it’s because he rarely  _ ever _ sees her not in control, has never seen her bend to their will instead of the other way around. Hell, maybe it’s just because it’s  _ her _ in general, but he can feel the anticipation and arousal simmering under his skin.

One of his hand traces her thigh, and she jumps a bit at the contact. Still nervous.

“Hey,” he says quietly, as soothing as he can. She always makes him feel comfortable, safe. He needs her to know that feeling too, regardless of how the next hour goes. He settles his left hand between her shoulder blades like he always does when she’s particularly worried. It seems to do the trick; she relaxes seemingly unthinkingly at the gesture. 

“I’ve got you.” He wants to say so much more, but simplicity works with her more often than not.

She nods. Relaxes a bit more.

“You want me to go soft, and we can work our way up?” He asks, rubbing knuckles gently into her skin, tracing nonsense patterns. She shakes her head.

“No. Give me like a....” She thinks for a moment. “Like, if this were us sparring, go for a medium? Not-

“Not warmup soft, but not ‘hand to hand combat training with a Klingon’ hard, either?” He finishes for her. His fingers stroke up and down her thighs. She huffs a weak laugh.

“That’s one way to put it”

He chuckles a bit in response. Spends a few more moments stroking her skin before his hand leaves her. She tenses just a bit.

He still gives her a soft hit, maybe a three or four out of ten. Takes care to avoid the plug on the first hit. Watches her for any sign of distress.

She inhales a tiny bit, sharp but small.

“Good?” He asks, just in case. She nods with a small “mhm”. Green light then.

He hazards another go, a bit harder. Higher up. She rocks in his lap a little with the force. He hears her sigh a tiny bit, watches her head droop down just a tad. Another hit, just under the plug and the force she  _ actually  _ asked for, and this time he’s rewarded with a sharp intake of breath, a curling of her fingers on his knee, a tense of her thighs. He almost asks her again if she’s ok, but cuts himself off: No sooner has he clocked her reactions then when he can  _ see _ the way she tries to shut them down. Tries to control them. Purposefully unclenches her fingers and steadies her breath. 

_ Trying to maintain control, or maybe, trying to appear ambivalent towards the whole thing still. Afraid to show what’s going on in that brilliant head of hers. _

_ ‘Oh no, you’re not getting away that easy’ _

His next hit is as hard as she wanted and  _ exactly _ over the plug, shoving it a bit against her in the process. The sound of his hand on her skin reverberates around the room, but he barely hears it. Too distracted by  _ her. _

Una’s body  _ lights up: _ Spine curled, head twitching back, fingers clawing at his pants. He sees the exact moment the hit ricocheted through her in a way the others hadn’t. And oh, her gasp. The way her breath caught in her throat, the almost startled sounding  _ ”ah!”  _ noise. The way her head dips again as she breathes shortly. The noise and the image go straight to his dick. He’s sure she can feel him twitch against her side. His head is spinning and all the embarrassment he once had is suddenly gone, replaced by a desperate clawing need to hear those noises again.

He doesn’t give her a moment more to recover, too afraid she’ll try to control herself again. Gives another smack, and this time Una’s “ah!” is louder, just a fraction more wanton. Her lower back stays curved up, pressing up into his strikes.

Another spank. Another and another. Paced just enough apart to have her react to each strike, but not so long she can really catch her breath. Purposefully missing the plug on occasion just to hear the difference in her whines. Commits the noises to memory so he knows how much is  _ too much, _ not enough, exactly like she wants it. Every time, her cries grow by just a hair. Louder, longer, more lustful. He doubts she realizes she’s doing it and fuck knows he’s not even gonna  _ consider  _ calling her on it.

On a whim and also curiosity, he pauses for just a beat longer between hits. Lets her take an extra breath before he smacks her ass again, this time at a six, maybe six and a half. Hits her directly under where the plug is spearing her open.

Una outright  _ moans.  _ The sound is so filthy and nakedly aroused that Chris’s head momentarily spins, and that along with the pressure of her side on his dick nearly makes him lose it then and there. Her head has pitched back slightly, spine curled. She looks so unbelievably hot and bothered, and looks like a fucking  _ vision. _ Bathed in the light of the stars, across his lap, she looks like she could have been plucked from a classical painting depicting the gods themselves.

He suddenly realizes he couldn’t give two shits if he comes, in his pants or otherwise. He needs to keep this woman Exactly where she is, and then, push her even further. Fuck everything else, this is the most driven and invigorated he’s felt in  _ ages. _

It’s off impulse alone that his left hand moves from her back to tangle in the hair at the base of her skull. Tugs just hard enough to give a little bit of pressure as his other hand gives her another hit exactly like the one before it.

_ “Yesss” _ Una hisses quietly between her teeth as her head drops back down. “Fuck Chr _ -IS!”  _ His name is nearly cut off and rises in octave on her lips when he hits her again midway through. God, his name has never sounded so good. 

He spends a few minutes like that, experimenting. Tugging her hair, playing around with where his hits land. She seems to appreciate the ones to the upper thigh when things get too much. Moans the loudest when the hits over the plug are hard, unexpected, usually when they follow a softer hit. Sighs and rubs her hands open-palmed on his slacks when he takes the moments between hits to ghost a hand over her reddened skin. She stays still for him, lets him have his way with her, takes care to answer each and every time he calls for her color even as her voice wavers and lowers and slurs with each hit. Hell, she seems to  _ anticipate _ when he’s gonna call for it too. Even now, barely into this new uncharted territory of their relationship, they’re still synced to one another.

He slows after a few minutes of beautiful torment. Her cries have long since turned open, voice pitched with a tone he can’t name. Gently, he rests his hand on the space where her thighs meet her ass. Lets go of her hair, places the other hand back between her shoulders. Softly grazes his fingers along her skin in soothing, rhythmic motions. 

“You’re still good?”

She’s panting, still twitching, catching her breath. Nods slowly. Murmurs a small “Mm” noise. It bothers him that he can’t see her face. That she isn’t saying words.

“Could you sit up for me, doll?” He asks softly, sweetly. She nods again, shifts and shimmies off his lap to kneel next to him and lean on his right leg. Shakes her hair from her face and looks up at him, and  _ fuck. _

She looks  _ incredible. _

Parted lips bitten to fullness and still gasping breaths. Her hair is mussed and untamed by his hand, falling around her face in beautiful, uneven waves. A blush rests high on her cheeks, the tips of her ears. God, her  _ eyes.  _ Pupils blown wide and hazed over, half lidded with arousal. He knows that look. Fuck, he’s  _ had  _ that look. That realization hits him somewhere low, then. Sends a pulse of arousal through him that’s so strong he gets a bit dizzy with it. She’s in  _ subspace _ : that wonderful, hazy place where inhibitions and insecurity falls away. Where desire and suggestion take its place and it’s like you’re drowning but only in the best way possible.  _ Submission. _ And she’s there because of  _ him. _

It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen in his life.

He’s cupping her face and leaning down to her before he realizes he’s doing it. Showers her in kisses, peppers them all over every little thing about her face that he loves (which, if he’s honest with himself, is _everything,_ but still). Mumbles praise upon praise between each one, overwhelmed by how much affection he has for her. Dimly wonders if this is how she feels when she ties him up and has her way with him and Phil. God, he feels so crazy. Powerful and proud and soft and all he wants to do is tell her everything about her that he loves. It’s addictive and new and the fact that he gets to do this for her feels so good, so right.

“God baby” a smooch to her brow. “you’re so good for me” Another to her temple. “You did so good” One to her lips. “I’m so _ fucking proud _ of you” smooches along her brow, which makes her giggle again, -a sound he will  _ never _ get used to or old of no matter how many times he hears it. “God I love you” one to the tip of her nose. “You look  _ so fucking hot _ right now.” He trails a few kisses down her jaw to her ear to punctuate his point. She starts laughing, leans into his kisses, grasps his arms. And oh that only spurs him on. She’s hardly ever so pliant, so soft, so openly affectionate with him. He basks in it, tries to pull as much of it out as he can.

He runs his hands all up and down her sides. Pulls back just enough to look at her. Her eyes are still cloudy, but moderately clearer. She’s still so open for him. Has held him in this same position countless times and for the first time is there herself. He wants to let her  _ revel _ in it, wants to keep her there for hours, can’t wait to do this to her again already 

“How d’you feel babe?” He asks, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. She smiles at him softly again. Rests her arms across his legs and sits her head on them.

“Mm. Good” she not-quite mumbles back. “Sore. More awake, but also kinda like, sleepy maybe?” Laughs again. “I dunno” She finishes through a dazed grin. She’s hardly ever this imprecise, this casual. 

He loves it.

“Yeah” he says with a grin. “It’s a hell of a feeling. You like it though?” 

“Mhmm” she affirms through a sigh. Languidly rests her head in her hand with a small smile on her lips. Let’s her eyes flutter shut, basking in the moment. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and she leans into his hand. God, she looks so peaceful. He wants to keep her here for the rest of shift, watch her come out of it slow and steady, get to hear all about how good she feels. But, on the other hand...

“Baby I think I’ve got an idea I’d like you to try, if you’re open to it?” 

She’s nodding before he even pitches it. Fuck, that’s... hot? Overwhelming? Adorable? All three? He can analyze his feelings at seeing her trust him so easy later. Namely, when she’s not headfirst in subspace and he’s not dying to come.

“Well, we have about...” he looks behind her and checks the clock. “A half hour until shift ends. You  _ could _ stay here with me, and we could fool around a little more...” He watches her eyes open, alight at the suggestion. Feels her ribs tremble against his leg on an anticipatory breath.

“Or,” he continues. “We could try something else.”

“What did you have in mind?” She asks, voice pitched low, soft. He’s never heard  _ that _ tone before. Instantly decides he wants to hear it again.

“Well,” he starts. “I was thinking... I haul that gorgeous little ass of yours back into my lap. Make sure that toy’s still slick and comfy. Help get you all dressed up before I send you back out there, just for a little bit.” He pitches gently, walks slowly through the steps. “I’d love to hear how you feel, sitting at your station all hot and bothered. Feel how sore you are, how bad you want it again.” Leans in slow, cups her face in one hand. Looks into her eyes. “Don’t you wanna know how it feels? To be all strung out and pleased when  _ you haven’t even come yet? _ Because let me tell you baby,” he presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever made me feel. And I think it’s high time I return the favor.”

Her lips part on a bit of a gasp. She bites her bottom lip, and for a moment he worries he’s gone too far. Pushed her too past her limits. But within a moment that fear is gone as she looks back to him, eyes clearer but still  _ so aroused. _

“How do you want me?” she answers finally. And he can’t stop the grin that spreads on his face, especially when he guides her up to straddle him. God, he fucking  _ loves _ this woman.

—

Fuck, she feels  _ drunk. _

She’s out of subspace, she knows that much. He never would have sent her out here if she weren’t clear headed enough. But goddamn if she doesn’t feel  _ wild. _

She’s sore, yes. Sore and needy and damn she hasn’t felt this turned on in ages. But fuck, she feels  _ good. _

It takes everything in her to maintain a careful mask to her colleagues. And that’s what it is: a mask. An act. She feels like she’s back at the academy when she would roll into early morning classes still decidedly not sober from the night before and plays a little game in her head of pretending she’s stone cold sober. Externally, she makes a point of looking  _ very busy. _ Checking her padd, glancing at readouts from the surface below, tapping out messages.

In  _ reality, _ her internal monologue circles back to the Ready Room on a set path, her body hurts  _ so good, _ and unlike before she just cannot fucking ignore  _ anything. _

She’ll shift just a tad in her seat and suddenly she’s overcome by a fresh wave of feedback from her body. A sweet, sweet soreness paired with the fresh memories of how she got there. And then it’s just a  _ trap _ and next thing you know she’s fantasizing over and over what he’s gonna do to her next. Obsessively checks her padd, counts the minutes until shift can be over and she can cross the threshold and drop the mask and just-

_ Breathe. _

She takes a much needed breath. That’s part of the cycle her brain is in. Gets so caught up in the excitement -and it  _ is _ excitement now, mostly, unlike the near fear from earlier- that she forgets to simply breathe. 

Shifts in her seat again. Feels the slick between her legs. Remembers herself in Chris’s lap, legs spread as he fingers the plug still buried in her. Teases at the rim as he bites her collarbone and oh, if she hadn’t been wet before then she fucking  _ was _ by then with how good it felt. Her hand rubs at the spot on her jacket where his bite mark lay, bruising and proud just under it. God, how naturally the pain, pleasure, soreness, and need had melted together at the base of her spine as the toy pushed back in. God, he hadn’t even fucked her and she had already felt so good, couldn’t get her mind off the things her body was feeling, like she was back on that planet from a few months ago where they had been dosed with the sex pollen and  _ god imagine if she had known how good this felt back then and- _

Breathe.

Checks her padd. Five minutes. She can do this.

Technically, she can go back whenever she wants or needs. Chris had been  _ very _ explicit about that -and explicit in… other ways. But she doesn’t  _ want to.  _ She does, desperately, but  _ doesn’t. _

She  _ knows _ this state of mind and how it works. Hell, she’s been in the scene too long and has put her partners in this same place too many times  _ not to. _ But knowledge can’t stop her from feeling it. Mere  _ logic  _ can’t save her now, as much as saying that out loud might break Spocks’ poor little Vulcan heart. 

Logic can’t negate the way she wants  _ so badly _ to last the whole time, to make Chris happy, to do  _ good.  _ Reasoning can’t stop the way her heart pounds when she thinks about going back in there, seduced by the fact that she has  _ no idea _ what’s going to happen or how she’s gonna feel _ . _ Knowledge can’t lift the ache from between her thighs, or stop the urging,  _ begging _ of her hips to rock in her chair and feel the toy, the sting, the ache between her legs get worse and worse. She  _ knows _ it wouldn’t be enough, isn’t the same,  _ can’t be _ without Chris -or Phil, god,  _ Phil.  _ She knows  _ full well _ that she could abandon her post right now, sprint back to her room, rip all her clothes away and fuck herself for  _ hours _ on her favorite toy and it  _ still _ wouldn’t be enough because the ache she has isn’t just about sex, it’s about  _ him, _ about the headspace she was in and the sting on her skin and the vulnerability of it all and she needs yes but she also just plainly and selfishly  _ wants- _

She nearly jumps out of her skin at the feel of contact on her shoulder.

Amin jumps too, from where she had her hand on Una’s shoulder. Quickly stumbles out an apology and it’s then that Una realizes she’s in the home stretch, that she just needs to hold it together a few minutes longer. 

Even the simple knowledge that she’ll soon be out of there seems to ease her. She laughs, waves off Amin’s apology with some quip along the lines of “oh sorry, I was just so involved in writing up a few report responses in my head, you know”, puts her at ease. Sees her relief officer come in early behind Amin and honest to god could  _ kiss _ them for the favor they’re unknowingly doing for her. She settles on a smile, a nod, and heads to the Ready Room doors as casually as she can manage when everything in her  _ howls _ to sprint through the doors.

The doors open. Chris looks up from his desk and smiles at her again. Perfectly passive face, but there’s just something about the sparkle in his eye that sends a rush through her.

_ He knows. _

Which, of course he knows. But somehow this feels so different than earlier. Then, she was still zoned out and hazy and love-drunk and all of it felt almost funny in its forbidden nature. Fluid. Carefree. But now it’s sinking in that he  _ knows. _ That Phil  _ knows,  _ if Chris has already sent the video they filmed earlier, and holy fuck does  _ that _ send a weird twist of shame and desire through her because Jesus Christ he  _ spanked her _ and she’s  _ getting off _ on it-

She’s stalling. She knows she is. Still definitely wants this, still feels that little prickle of shame on her neck. Still hears that whispering voice in her head telling her that this was a mistake, that she should be ashamed, that she should go and space herself right now and let the coroner see she died with a butt plug in and give them a nice little laugh-

“Are you hesitating because you regret this, or because you’re regretting not getting  _ more?”  _ Chris asks, breaking her out of thoughts. She looks back up to him  _ -when did she look away?-  _ and he’s still there. Still  _ Chris.  _ Still one of the men she loves and trusts with her life.

It takes her a second to process. Blinks, stunned. Takes a second to look down, collect herself. She  _ doesn’t _ regret it. She’s still so fucking sore and still so turned on, but god. She wants it again. The shame creeping on her back is still there, but this is  _ Chris.  _ This is  _ Phil. _ She looks back up at him to give him an answer, and he’s got  _ that _ grin. The one he breaks out when he knows he’s got her figured out, like when she huffs out some snide quip in response to some dumb thing he said, and yet he  _ still _ hears how fond of him she is. 

“So it’s the latter, then?” He says with a confident, if also amused candance to his voice. Shit, he can read her thoughts like an open book even when they look like Greek to her. 

“How do you feel about getting a few more before we go back out there?”

Her breathing picks up a bit with her hearts jump of anticipation. Chris clocks it, grinning even harder in response. Una nods before she even realizes she’s doing it. Makes her way back over to him as he calls for security protocol again. Shimmies back out of her clothes just like before. She’s midway through yanking at her jacket when Chris pipes up again.

“How  _ was _ it, out there?” He asks, curiosity laced in his tone. “Too much, not enough?”

_ “Torture”  _ she says through a half laugh. Emboldened by the fact that she’s facing away from him, she continues. “You know how hard it is to sit like you  _ didn’t _ just get a  _ spanking _ five feet away from your coworkers?” 

He laughs, and hears what she assumes is him shaking his head.

“It’s  _ rough!” _ She enunciates again, because it gives her an excuse to laugh. And at this point she’s so high strung on leftover embarrassment, aching arousal, and the near overwhelming need to get back to whatever  _ the fuck  _ mindset she was in earlier that she’ll seize any for of relief with two hands.

Chris laughs again, and she hears shuffling. As she tosses her jacket over the desk, arms encircle her waist. She gasps, jumps a bit back into the tall, broad,  _ warm as hell _ body pressing himself to her back. He laughs again, and the chuckle is so soothing against her -and also, because it’s _ him- _ that she relaxes back into him almost automatically. Lets her head fall back on his shoulder as he kisses her collarbone, works at the front of her pants, shimmies them down her hips.

He kisses behind her ear. “Love you so much” he murmurs. Words he’s said so many times before, yet it feels different, hits different. Lights something up in her brain that just has her  _ melting  _ for him.

“Love you too” she whispers back, nuzzling into his head. “You and Phil both.”

He nods. “Love that bastard. ‘specially after today.” 

She reaches back and smacks his arm and he laughs again, and god help her if she grins too. 

She mourns the loss of contact when he pulls away from her, sits back down in his office chair. Nods to the padd still set up in the corner, probably recording again. The arousal that had hummed under her skin for the better part of an hour roars to life again, and it only gets worse as she sinks to her knees.

She settles back over his lap. He strokes her back, her thighs, wherever he can reach. Pulls away and raises his hand when-

“I’m not made of glass you know” her own traitorous mouth drawls.

_ ‘Shit, shit, fucking, dammit’ _

He stops, glances to her face, thankfully mostly hidden from view by his thigh and her hair.

“Harder, then?” He asks, almost amused. 

_ ‘Correction: damn him. Damn him damn him damn him’ _

Her fingers steeple on his thigh. Nods once, small and decisive. She can  _ feel _ his dick twitch where it’s pressed into her side, and another thrum of arousal courses through her. How she forgot he was into all of this too, she’ll never know, but it also soothes that tiny part of her that’s still  _ howling _ at her that she should be ashamed. If he likes this too, what’s the harm to her?

She doesn’t get another second to dwell on it: he rewards her with a harder hit, taking  _ good fucking care _ to catch the edge of the plug so it twitches inside her. She gasps, a sharp little “ah!” escaping her lips followed by a caught inhale. Fuck, that’s good.

_ ‘Another correction: god fucking bless him, Phil, and whoever the fuck it was with the spanking kink that decided to indoctrinate Phil’ _

“Good?” He asks, just to be sure.

_ ”Yeah”  _ comes a breathy whisper, and it takes her a second to realize it was  _ her _ who said it. Barely recognizes her own voice. 

He gives another, just as hard. Gets another gasp, another squirm. Another and another. Pleasure snakes up her spine, flows through her limbs, leaves her feeling heavy and oh so fucking turned on. It feels like some part of her brain keeps lighting up with each hit, something about it just feeling oh so fucking right. Her thoughts fall to the wayside, slippery and complex. She’s sinking down. Her mind is slowly going blank, things like shame and pride and control slipping through her fingers like water and leave nothing but the sensations she feels and it would be  _ terrifying _ if it didn’t feel  _ so fucking good. _

_ Pleasure. Satisfaction. Need, aching need but god it’s so good already she can’t let it stop, feels so good. Mind blank quiet good soft need need fuck- _

Distantly, she realizes she’s squirming in his lap. Also making a  _ lot _ of noise. Whimpers when it’s too much, whimpers when it’s not enough, and somehow through it all he seems to know which is which when even  _ she _ can’t quite tell.

“You know Phil is gonna want his turn with you after shift tonight, right?” He drawls. Another hit.

Una makes a small noise in her throat. “Can’t wait” she bites out before his hand comes down again, soft and teasing on her thighs, and she sighs. Her head rolls a bit to the side. Pleasure and need seem to find each other in her veins then: intertwine into something that’s not quite satisfaction but damn well close to it, and she feels drunk off the way it seems to flood her synapses.

After a few more hits, he pauses again. Runs his hands soothingly over her stinging skin. She hums in response, shifts a bit over his lap. Her eyes slide shut again and she focuses on everything she’s feeling. She could almost fall asleep; limbs heavy, mind blank. Feels so good and peaceful and relaxed like she hasn’t felt in  _ fuck knows _ how long-

Chris’s fingers stroke the inside of her thighs, and he lets out a small curse. 

_ “Fuck, _ babe”

She mumbles a questioning noise, sits up a teeny bit, still too sluggish to really move much.

“Fuck, Un. you’re  _ soaked _ ” 

It takes a second for his words to sink in and process.  Her ass and thighs still sting, so she wiggles a bit in his lap to see- and shit. She’s  _ so fucking turned on. _

She had been too blissed out to realize, so caught up in the sensations and the stinging to remember. She’s soake d her underwear -which was the case earlier, but still- the crease of her thighs, even down past it onto that little bit of chub where her thighs rub together. 

“Un, I don’t think I’ve seen you this turned on since that sex pollen dose on Letraxi One.”

He… isn’t wrong. Her head is still blissfully foggy, but she can’t remember a time she’s been this turned on and hadn’t already been well on her way to sprinting to the proverbial finish line.

“Shit, you're  _ really _ into this” 

She nods into his thigh with a whimper. A breathy laugh. She’s  _ way  _ too out of her mind to deny it: drunk on his affection and awe, the sting of her skin, the feeling of the plug spearing her open, how fucking  _ wet _ she is. 

His fingers dip below her underwear, past her lips and curls  _ in, _ and she cries out so loud it’s nearly embarrassing. Can  _ feel _ herself get even more slick just from that. 

_ “Christ _ Una” He swears again. “I don’t think I’d even have to get you ready if I tried to fuck you.” She whimpers at the suggestion. “You could take me, or Phil,” he makes some kind of noise. “Hell, maybe _ both  _ of us” and tweaks the plugs base with his thumb, and that’s  _ it. _

Pleasure and arousal  _ roaring _ in her veins and overpowering the once near-satisfaction, any traces of her pride or decorum get shoved out the  _ fucking _ airlock and they are  _ not _ missed. 

“Next time. Another night. Maybe tonight. Fuck, I dunno Chris just please  _ fuck me, please” _ she bites out. Whines, really. Claws at his pants and bites her lip and feels like she’s about to lose her fucking  _ mind _ with how how bad she needs it, needs  _ him. _

He swears again, says something she can’t hear under his breath or over the roar of blood in her ears as his fingers curl again. He pulls them out, dragging slick down through her lips and around her clit and  _ god _ it feels so fucking good.  He grazes over her clit with his fingers and she cries out for him, so desperate. He does it again, rubs his thumb at her opening and gathers more slick on is thumb. She knows this isn’t a  good angle for him to f inger her at but it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t care. Just needs him to stop teasing and start fucking-

His left hand. She hadn’t noticed it move off her back. His left hand glides over her ass and starts  _ toying with the fucking plug. _

Her brain feels like it goes into a full system shut down. Nothing else matters outside of his hands, outside of the stinging up her ass and down her thighs, outside the feeling of that fucking plug being tugged at, teased. He pulls it out to its widest part just as his other hand slots two fingers firmly framing her clit and she doesn’t know what noise she makes, but it’s  _ loud,  _ and she  _ doesn’t care.  _ She’s keening with it, begging, pride long gone and she feels  _ liberated _ in its absence. Feels used and played and dirty and loved and  _ so fucking good.  _ He fucks her rough and quick. Nimble fingers play with the toy and slide under the flare to curl at her rim and fuck into her clit with rough, fast circles and she’s breathing so fast shit she’s so fucking close too good too good fuck  _ fuck FUCK- _

Una  _ wails  _ when she comes. She can feel her whole body curl with it, twitc hing, trembling. Claws at his pants and legs as she cries out with barely any breath. Her throat catches on a desperate inhale, choked gasps and small noises of utter nonsense and half hearted curses. Her neck goes limp, her head hanging over the edge of his leg as she rides the waves he fucks her through, slowing his motions just enough to not be too much, and god, she fucking  _ loves him _ for it.

Eventually, her  whole body just goes limp. She tries to catch  her breath. Brain tries to do a system restart but is too full of feel good chemicals to remember how to, quits trying. He disengages gently. Rubs her back, her thighs, murmurs things she can’t decipher but is soothed by none the less. Her breath starts to steady. She sits up a bit, raises her head just enough to rest in one hand. 

“Holy shit” she murmurs, voice rough. God, she feels  _ so fucking good.  _ Heavy, sluggish, empty headed and sore and oh so fucking good. Can’t even think of another word for it. Just, _ good. _

Chris can’t seem to help himself, because he giggles softly. Not  _ at _ her, just, at the whole scene, probably. And fuck, she starts laughing with him. Unbidden, disbelieving giggles off a shared chemical high. She’s fucking  _ giddy, _ and can’t bring herself to not be, and it feels so good not to have to.

When he can get himself together, she feels him gently reach for the base of the toy. Tugs on it just enough to pull it out a bit. It sends a weak jolt through her, and her arm is moving before she even realizes she’s doing it. She catches his hand mid action, and the toys is caught on her rim at the widest point. Overstimulated little pulses shoot through her. He looks to her.

“Una, you’ve had it in for a while. I’m just-”

“I know.” She cuts him off

His pauses. Starts again, curious.

“You-?“

“Leave it” She responds back quickly, but the bite she meant to have isn’t there. Still too blissed out to really sass him properly. 

She doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t wanna surface just yet, wants to stay just a little longer-

He fumbles with his hand in his pocket for a second. Seems to fish out the discarded lube packet from earlier. His slick fingers tease at her rim and she can  _ feel _ herself sink back down, head go foggier again. She twitches bodily when he pushes the toy back in. A small sigh escapes her lips at the stretch, the burn, the overstimulation. Her head drops a tiny bit.

_ ‘Oh, this is what it feels like’ _ she thinks deliriously.  _ ‘What they feel, when I-’ _

_ ‘God, that’s good’ _

Chris smiles, pulls his hand back to rest on her lower back.

“You’ll have a hell of a time until paperwork hours end, then.” And goes to let her go and get up off his lap.

She pulls back, goes to sit on her heels before she remembers. Sits back carefully. He smirks at the movement. She can’t help but match his smile, if a bit softer.

“How do you feel about staying here for a little longer?” he asks her gently. Pushes her hair behind one ear. “We can curl up on the couch, I’ll finish up both our reports and you just sit pretty with your head up on my arm? Maybe kiss for a little bit before we see Phil later?”

_ Couch. Cuddles. Him holding her. Kiss his neck and make him laugh. Phil.  _

A swell of affection rises in her chest. Her smile widens.

He grins back at her, eyes so soft and full of love. He cups her face, leans down to kiss her gently.

“That’s my girl” he whispers to her lips. _ “Our _ girl”

The words send a rush of something so good and so _warm_ through her that it damn near bowls her over, feels herself bounce a bit with the joy suddenly coursing through her veins. _His. Theirs. _She’s_ their _girl. She did good. 

Chris rises, and she follows his lead. Lets him help her with the clasp on her pants. Giggles as he moves her hair aside just to press kisses to her neck and cheek. Smiles as he grabs the padd on one hand and her hand in the other and leads her to the couch.

He sits down first, dragging her down into the crook of his arm and she falls willingly. Tucks her head up in his shoulder and brushes soft kisses into his jaw. Just because. Because she feels so good. Because he’s so sweet to her -both her boys are. Because he smiles so soft when she does it. He steals a kiss from her lips, and she laughs.

When he turns away, he taps at the padd briefly, giving her time to snuggle a bit more in his arms, put a hand on his chest, curl her legs into his lap.

He turns to her after a few moments. Tilts the padd resting on her knees a bit so she can see the screen better. He’s edited the recordings from earlier together. One long recording, the opening shot of her and Chris standing at the desk.

“Still want to send it?” Chris asks softly. Gives her the choice.

Except there  _ is _ no choice, not one she has to make that she hasn’t already, anyway.

She nods. Tucks her head back into his neck to smooch behind his ear. “Motivation. Dinner date.” she quips simply. “Good for work ethic”

His laugh sends an outpouring of pride and love through her chest, only enunciated moments later, after he’s sent it.

“God babe” he laughs, grabbing her waist and laying kisses all over her face, even as she shakes with little giggles. “I fucking  _ love you” _

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of a paper. I don't even know why. it wouldn't leave my head. drop a comment or a kudos if y'all enjoyed or want a part two from Phils perspective. poor dude was gonna get paperwork done and instead gets two videos of his partners getting it on and experimenting with a thing HE suggested? you Know he's got some feelings on the subject


End file.
